Elves, Dwarves, etc
by SirMagis
Summary: Attention, laddies and gentlewomen, Chapter 3 is now online!
1. Chapter 1

It all began on a dark winter night... I mean, it wasn't exactly during winter, more of around June 24th... and it also wasn't really night, which results in it not being too dark either. As a matter or fact, it was more like a sunny morning in late spring, with many Keepers of the Grove prancing joyfully about the place, ressurecting trees just for the heck of it. Truly, a lovely sight.  
But the air... oh yes, it was definitely that of a dark winter night! And it was exactly that sort of sunny, joyful mornings that made the evil Lich King sit angrily in his black citadel, and stare angrily into the dark winter night -ish air. The evil Lich King approached his window, in the topmost tower of his evil black citadel. He could feel the warmth of that sunny day, despite that dark winter night -ish air. He drew some warm air into his hollow rib cage, and thought to himself "Hmmm... I know it may sound corny, but I'm totally in the mood for doing something evil!". He picked up his evil black phone and dialed 666-Acolyte. "My life for Ner'zhul", declared a dark voice on the other side of the line.   
Moments later, an Acolyte coughed into the room through the evil black door. "Acolyte, I have a mission for thee!", declared the Lich King in a very dramatic and royal voice. The Lich King explained to the Acolyte the details of his evil plan, and the Acolyte hurried to leave the room, muttering "My life for Aiur! Uh, I mean, Ner'zhul!". "Oh, and Acolyte, one more thing!", thundered the voice of the Lich King once more. "What is it, my king?", coughed the Acolyte's head through the door. "Could you pick up some milk and bread on your way back?", asked the Lich King politely. "Certainly, my liege", coughed the Acolyte, and quickly left the citadel. The evil Lich King hovered back to the window, and stared towards the distant city of Elvenville. ("Ooh, Elvenville!", commented Magis). "Begone, you crazy writer!", he muttered and laughed cruelly, and his laugher echoed across his evil kingdom.  
  
On the next morning, the Elven king woke up from his Elvish sleep in his Elvish castle in the middle of Elvenville. "Servant, where is my breakfast?", roared the king Elvishly, and soon enough a servant arrived, carrying a tray with the royal breakfast on it. "Ah, excellent, just what I needed!", exclaimed the king with delight at the sight of his royal breakfast, which consisted of a toast, some fried bacon and a greater healing potion. "Anything else, your Elvishness?", inquired the servant politely. "Yes, could you please open the window, so that I may feast my eyes upon the beautiful view of this Elvish country?", replied the king. "But, your Elvishness", explained the servant, "The window has already been opened". "What?", roared the king, and smote his toast, "So how come I cannot see our beloved country outside it?". "Well, I'm no landscape architect, your Elvishness, but I would say that the reason for that is the great undead Ziggurat that stands in front of the window", apologized the servant. "What treachery is this?!", shrieked the king, "Who dares construct a hideous abomination such as this outside my royal window?!". "Was it… you, servant?!", he added suspiciously. "Of course not, your Elvishess!", replied the servant quickly, "I am but a humble servant, uncapable of performing such great tasks overnight!". "I shall find the person responsible of this despicable crime!", declared the king in a royal voice and marched out the door, not forgetting to put the greater healing potion in his inventory. "But, your Elvishness!", mumbled the servant, "You have forgotten to wear your royal pants!". "Yes, I may have!", agreed the king, marching royally back into the room, "But we shall not let such petty details stand in our way! Now, go and summon the high council!".   
  
Shortly after, the high council was assembled on top of the highest mountain in Elvenville. "O great Elven king!", spoke one of the Elves and sneezed Elvishly, "Why must we always assemble the council on this high snowy mountain?". "Why, because this is the High Council!", replied the king, "Now, let's get on with the issues of the day!". One of the Elves got up. "Well, those burning meteors continue to rain upon our land as we speak, resulting in many casualties, and terrorizing the remaining citizens...", he began to said, when he was interrupted by the king. "Enough of this foolishness!", demanded the king, "We have matters more grave to discuss than these puny meteors! There is a Ziggurat upon my garden, blocking the view out of my window!". All the Elves of the High Council immediately began to whisper amongst themselves, the fear glowing in their eyes. "A Ziggurat?!", asked one of them faintly. "Something must be done!", agreed another. "But.. the meteors.. casualties.. fire raging across the plains..", mumbled the first Elf. "Well someone better arrange their priorities straightened up...", mocked one of the Elves. "Yeah, you're always complaining about your poor little citizens...", growled the king, "O, our poor citizens are starving, struggling with the plague, being eaten by Ogres and Centaurs... can you not see that the crisis which we are facing here is greater than any crisis we have even known?".   
For a long time, the king and his High Council sat and discussed the problem rationally, trying to figure out the best solution:  
-"I believe the answer lies within.. cheese"  
-"No, it doesn't"  
-"Yes it does"  
-"No it doesn't"  
-"Alright then! Fish!"  
-"What fish?!"  
-"This fish!"  
-"That's no fish, it is your sword!"  
-"It could be a fish"  
-"And even then it would not help us in this crisis!"  
-"Very well. So I suggest that we run up to their door, ring the bell, and run away"  
-"Nonsense, we Elves run away from nothing!"  
-"Alright, then we will run around!"  
"Silence!", screamed the king, "We need a real solution here, not a lunch of cheese and fish!". "May I suggest a solution, your Elvishness?", asked one of the Elves. "Yes you may", muttered the king, "As long as it involves neither cheese nor fish...". "Thank you, your Elvishness", replied the Elf, "My idea is as follows: we need to find a hero! A bold hero! One that is both brave and witted, not to mention.. dispensable!". "You don't mean…", whispered another Elf in horror. "Yes!", continued the first Elf, "We must summon… Sir Magis the Blue!". "Then so it shall be!", ordered the king, "Bring forth the Elvish messanger!". One of the Elves quickly put an Elvish Messanger sign around his neck.   
"Here I am, your Elvishness!", he said.   
"Excellent!", replied the king, "Go immediately to the village and fetch us Sir Magis the Blue! You can probably find him roaming about the nearby forests".   
"Right away, your Elvishness!", saluted the messanger and started down the mountain.   
"Messanger!", screamed the king, "We have a national crisis at hand, and you take the long way off the mountain?!".   
"But, your Elvishness", hesitated the messanger, "The only other way down is off this 2500 meters high cliff, which hangs right above the Valley Of Really Sharp Rocks!".   
"Sharp rocks?!", cried the king, "Are you going to let something like a bunch of rocks sharp enough to cut you in half delay an errand as important as this?!".   
"But, your Elvishness", muttered the messanger again, "There are said to be dragons in that valley to eat all who might survive the fall!".  
"Dragons, shmagons!", announced the king royally and shoved the messanger off the cliff, "It's a ziggurat we are talking about here!!!".  
"But the valley is also inhabited by mean Elf-eating level 8 creeps!", echoed the messanger's voice and faded as he dropped like an Elvish rock from the cliff.  
  
Magis was roaming about the green forests of Elvenville, when suddenly he heard a scream. "Alas!", declared Magis, "A damsel in distress! I better rescue her from whichever unfortunate fate has come upon her!". Swiftly hurried Magis towards the damsel in distress. "Hmmm...", spoke Magis to the readers, "It seems as if this scream is coming from the Valley of Really Sharp Rocks!".   
As Magis arrived at the Valley of Really Sharp Rocks, he noticed a large dragon chewing on something, which could very well have been a damsel in distress. "Sir Magis to the rescue!", he announced Elvishly and charged towards the beast.  
"Round 1", declared an unknown voice, and the battle began. The dragon stared threateningly at Magis, smoke coming out of his nostrils. "For glory!!!", screamed Magis his traditional warcry, and quickly disposed of the dragon's unnecessary head and limbs. The nearly-digested messanger rolled out of the dragon's mouth.   
"Thank you, Magis!", he coughed, "I have been searching for you!".   
"What?", exclaimed Magis, "You are no damsel in distress! Begone, nasty impostor!".   
"Wait, Magis!", cried the messanger, "I have a message for you from the Elven king!".   
"The Elven king?", replied Magis in shock.  
"Yes, the Elven king!", repeated the messanger dramatically, "He requested that you come at once to the meeting place of the High Council!".  
"What is it about?", asked Magis suspiciously.  
"It is a matter of national security!", emphasized the messanger, "All I am allowed to reveal is that it is related to a ziggurat, and the king".  
"A ziggurat?", pondered Magis, "That does not sound so important!".  
"Doesn't it?", gasped the messanger, "Well, it might also involve... a flying sheep!".  
"A flying sheep?!", recoiled Magis, "Well why didn't you say so? There is no time to waste!".  
"My mission... complete, at long last...", said the messanger and collapsed onto the dusty floor.  
Magis looked at the messanger. "He was a fine Elf", he said, "And he died bravely. But now I must hurry to meet the king, and learn more of the perilous quest that lies ahead!".   
"I'm not dead!", shouted the messanger, but Magis was already on his way to the top of the mountain.  
  
Magis reached the top of the mountain. "Ooh, Elves!", he said enthusiastically.  
"Yes, High Elves", agreed the king, "High Council Elves even!".  
"Why are so excited anyway?", wondered one of the council Elves aloud. "Well", explained Magis, "You're all Elves! Elves own!".   
The council Elf handed Magis a small mirror. "Ooh, an Elf!", exclaimed Magis in surprise, "Can I keep this?".  
"There is no time for this nonsense!", argued the king, "We have a national crisis to take care of!".  
"Oh right", Said Magis, "The sheep issue... Worry not, I shall take care of those nasty creatures!".  
"Sheep?! Are you insane?!", replied the king with a bewildered look, "This matter is hardly that fuzzy! This is about a ziggurat, young Elf, and we must not undervalue the danger which lies within it!".  
"A ziggurat?", cried Magis, "Why, this is far worse than I ever suspected! What's wrong with this ziggurat, is it bleeding?".  
"Bleeding? Have you gone insane?", roared the king, "The bloody thing is blocking the view out of my window, and it is up to you to get rid of it A.S.A.B!".  
"Don't you mean A.S.A.P, your Elvishness?", wondered Magis aloud.  
"Argh, it can be N.F.L for all I care!", screamed the king in despair, "Just get on with your quest already!".  
Magis stood silently for a minute with confusion in his eyes. "Well then", he declared eventually, "Whether it is a sheep, or a ziggurat which may or may not be bleeding, I shall get rid of it at once!".  
Magis started down the mountain. "Don't you think you should take the short way down?", suggested the king and began approaching him.  
"Uh... perhaps on another day", muttered Magis and fled down the long way.  
  
Thus began the heroic quest of the great heroic hero, Sir Magis the Blue.  
All names and incidents appearing in this story are fictional. Names and incidents that resemble real names or incidents are either coincidental or were used on purpose. 


	2. Chapter 2

Magis walked along an unfamiliar road, concentrating hard on the perilous quest ahead. Suddenly, he came to enlightenment. Unfortunately, the enlightenment revealed simply that he had no idea how a puny level 1 Elf such as himself was supposed to beat a gigantic Undead Ziggurat in troublesome days such as these. Magis continued to concentrate on the problem with all of his mental strength. After several such minutes, his Elvish ears began to sweat and he collapsed on a nearby patch of sand.   
Slightly depressed, Magis got up and walked on. "There must be a solution to this lack of Intelligence", he thought to himself, when all of a sudden and very unexpectedly, he tripped over that solution. "Well, at least I have enough Intelligence to trip over solutions!", smiled Magis in satisfaction, and turned around for a closer inspection of the solution. The solution, however, turned around as well and roared at Magis, who began to suspect that this solution was in fact a little Gnoll rather than a simple note with detailed instructions on how to gain Intelligence points. A second look revealed that the little Gnoll was really a huge and fearsome beast, with sharp teeth and furry ears, known to some as a Gnoll Poacher (Level 1). Magis, however, was a very brave Elf (despite his temporarily low level), and he bravely stood still to inspect the newly found creature, who disliked being stumbled upon and thus growled frighteningly towards Magis.  
Suddenly, Magis' eyes lit up like a fresh 75Watt Night Elf Wisp. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?", he carefully asked the Gnoll.   
"Grrr!", denied the Gnoll fiercely.  
"No, you silly Gnoll", chuckled Magis, "I was talking about killing you to gain experience, and eventually receive more Intelligence points as I reach Level 2!".  
"Grrr!", insisted the Gnoll, and recoiled as Magis jumped at him, wielding Elvenblade, his infamous Elven blade.  
The Gnoll immidiately switched to defensive position, but his body refused to obey his mind, possibly because his head has very recently been detached from the rest of the body. "Ooh, can you see that?", exclaimed Magis with great satisfaction towards the already decaying Gnoll's head, "My experience bar filled up a bit!".   
" ", replied the Gnoll's head without showing too much excitement. "Ah, to hell with you", shrugged Magis and left the scene.  
  
All excited with this new discovery of the connection between creeps and experience, Magis ran off in search for more creeps to kill. "Let's see now", he said to himself Elvishly, "I need to seek and destroy things that aren't slim and tall with long ears...".  
"Ooh, here is one of those!", he cried and charged into a nearby patch of vegetation. "Victory!", echoed his Elvish voice through the forest seconds later as Magis arose with the fresh corpse of a sheep lying at his feet.   
The effort, however, had been futile, as Magis soon noticed that his experience bar hasn't moved at all. Quickly coming to a conclusion regarding sheep and their refusal to supply him with experience, he continued to roam about the forest in search for other more experience-yielding creeps that can be hunt down.  
As Magis roamed some more along the forest, he came to a sudden stop. "Something is suspicious here!", he informed the readers aloud, "For I sense the presence of a large stone!". "Dude, the forest is filled with stones, there's nothing unusual about that!", protested a reader foolishly. Magis considered the matter, and decided that he better hurry on to find real creeps, since the day was already getting darker, possibly an effect of the large human-like piece of granite that now towered above Magis with an evil look carved deep into its granite head.   
"Wait just a second", hesitated Magis, "Isn't it too early for nightfall?". He turned around cautiously, just in time to find what seemed to be a Granite Golem (Level 9) preparing to club him down. "AH HA!", shrieked Magis, not forgetting to press his CAPS lock key, "JUST AS I SUSPECTED! A nasty gigantic purple experience-yielding creep!". "Begone, nasty gigantic purple experience-yielding creep!", he added at last and charged the nasty gigantic purple experience-yielding creep with much enthusiasm.  
Magis flung Elvenblade, his trusty Elven blade, as high as he could, fiercely bashing the golem's knee, and quickly leaped aside to avoid becoming a small puddle of Elvenjuice under the feet of the creep. The golem, expressing very little pain, tossed a boulder at Magis, who now found himself standing in place for 2 seconds, curiously inspecting the circles above his head.   
Once the circles disappeared, Magis was once again able to concentrate on the golem, who seemed to be charging at him again. He briefly considered the danger of the situation, and began to flee in terror, screaming mixed up warcries and cutting down evil blades of grass at random.  
  
Now back in Elvenville, Magis was sitting in his humble, yet generally blue, Elvish dwelling, and satisfactorily reading his ad in the Elvenews newspaper.   
"Hear ye, hear ye!", declared the ad majestically (Elvenews was known for its enchanted speaking ads), "Do you enjoy danger? Do you like spending your free time hunting down creeps? Do you get excited merely from the sight of hideus monsters lying on the ground with their body inside-out? Call 555-MagisNeedsToHuntCreeps. And don't forget, hunting creeps is its own reward!".  
"Indeed, a fine job!", said Magis proudly to himself, quickly closing his Elvenews before it could finish reciting "Grab your sword and drive a Ford!" in a Footman-like voice.  
With his ad loudly reading itself from out the 127th most popular newspaper in Elvenville, Magis sat down and waited for the creeping companionship candidates to arrive in large numbers. Soon, twilight came, quickly followed by darkness. Magis considered asking darkness to join his quest, but the latter seemed to be preoccupied with some Dreadlord or another. He was on the edge of giving up all hope, when he he finally heard a knock on his door. He quickly got to the door and opened it, but found nothing behind it but a strong odor of Dwarven ale.  
Deep into the darkness peering, long he stood there, wondering, fearing, Dreaming dreams no Magis ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word "Hey, down here, lad!".  
Slightly startled, Magis looked down, just to find a short, yet surprisingly wide, Dwarf, leaning on his battle axe and staring at him with interest.  
Back into the chamber turning, all his soul within him burning, Soon again he heard a tapping something louder than before. "Let me in, ye crazy Elf!", shouted the Dwarf from outside and bashed the door once more with his axe. Slightly confused, Magis let the Dwarf in.   
"Ye have quite a blue house in here, lad!", remarked the Dwarf. "Now, was it ye who wanted to kill creeps?"  
"Yes, it was I!", agreed Magis. "What sort of Elf are you?", he added with curiosity.  
"Silly Elf!", laughed the Dwarf, "I am not an Elf, but a proud Dwarf! Toras Largehammer at your service, the mightiest Dwarf in all Elvenville!".  
"Oh, I had no idea there were other Dwarves here in Elvenville", said Magis with surprise.  
"There aren't any", explained Toras, "Which makes me the mightiest by default! Now, are ye and I going to bash some gnolls or what?".  
"Very well then, if you are that strong", announced Magis with the evil grin that he usually wears when evil thoughts go through his mind, "surely you wouldn't mind proving it by performing a simple task...".  
"Ah, shut ye mouth, ye crazy Elf!", argued Toras, already out the door, "Let's go bash some gnolls around! Me axe lusts for gnoll blood!".  
"What a mean thing to say", thought Magis to himself, grabbed Elvenblade, and walked out the door and into the next paragraph.  
  
Magis and Toras, not necessarily by that order, were walking down the grassy road. Toras was on the lead, to be exact, while Magis hopped cheerfully behind him, giggling at the drunken Dwarvish songs which he kept singing to himself. It was already late in the afternoon, yet the two companions haven't yet come across any gnolls, or indeed of anything worth killing.  
"Well, ye are from here", asked Toras once he got tired of the singing, "Where might one find gnolls around these parts?".  
"Well, according to the direction of the wind, the height of the grass, and the prophecies of Elune", replied Magis slowly, taking all relevant factors into consideration, "I can honestly say that I have no idea".  
Toras spun around quickly, giving Magis a penetrating Dwarvish look in the eyes. "To the left, you say? Aight!", he shouted and charged enthusiastically to the right.  
"You know", said Magis to no one in particular, "I begin to suspect that this Dwarf might be drunk!". He considered the matter for a second then decided to quickly follow the Dwarf.  
The sun, persistently following the rules of physics set by Blizzard Entertainment, has already set, which was emphasized by the howl of some wolves and by the fog of war that came nearer to our heroes. Toras, nonetheless, chose to go on running, with Magis behind him. Soon enough, Toras got to a dead end, and cleverly stopped running before smashing into the wall ahead. Magis also avoided direct confrontation with the wall, and instead stopped running only after falling over Toras, confronting the road instead.  
Toras quickly scouted the few inches of ground around his head. He got up and turned 720 degrees to face Magis.   
"Look what you've done, silly Elf!", he growled angrily and tossed a Storm Bolt at Magis, "There's grass and dirt all over me beard!".  
"Hey, that thing almost hit me!", complained Magis after masterfully dodging the flying hammer by losing balance and regrouping with the floor.   
"What are you smiling at?", he added, and turned around to see what Toras was smiling at.  
By a surprising turn of events, most likely unforeseen by any of our readers, the Storm Bolt has hit an invisible Murloc Nightcrawler, which would probably have been unhappy about the matter if he weren't stunned. Magis, very excited about this fishy blue creep, was about to ask Toras what should be done next, when he noticed that Toras was gone. With a puzzled face he turned back to face the Murloc, but found nothing but its corpse beneath the stout legs of a very pleased Dwarf.  
"Good, a few more of these and we might gain a level!", commented Toras, and continued to walk right into the nearby wall. After a few more tries he managed to walk along the wall instead, then charged on in search of more prey.   
Magis, rather confused by the recent events, shrugged and followed the frenzied Dwarf. 


	3. Chapter 3

Magis and Toras, still not necessarily by that order, were beating up a Forest Troll Priest and a Forest Troll Berserker, respectively. Both Trolls' Hit Points decreased in a funnily rapid rate, which soon resulted in their inevitable death, which in turn resulted in an inevitable flash of light upon our 2 heroes to emphasize that they have just gained a level.   
"Ooh, look at that!", bounced Magis excitedly. "Yes, I believe we've gained a level!", agreed Toras drunkenly. "Yes we have", repeated Magis, "and you know what that means!".   
- "We now have more Strength!".   
- "And agility!".   
- "And a shiny skill point for ye to spend!".   
"And most important of all...", added Magis, "We have also more.. uh.. erm.. what do you call that?".   
"Fine Dwarven ale?", suggested Toras with gleaming eyes.   
"No no no", protested Magis, "It must have been something related to Elves...".   
"Bigger ears, perhaps?", suggested Toras, "So ye can track down and hunt some fine Dwarven ale?".   
"Of course!", jumped Magis, "We are now more intelligent than before! Which means we can now move on to the next phase of our perilous quest!".   
"To drink fine Dwarven ale, you mean?", assumed Toras, "Aye, I feel better qualified to do that now!".   
"Back to Elvenville then!", declared Magis and began marching in some direction, "To carefully plan our next move!".   
"And to use ye large ears and have some fine Dwarven ale!", agreed Toras and started marching as well.   
  
Meanwhile, back at the Black Citadel, the evil Lich king was upset. "Foolish creature!", screeched the lich across the chess board at the Abomination which played against him, "You are supposed to move bishops diagonally, not to eat them!".   
"WhAt wE dO", apologized the Abomination.   
"You underlings will never understand this great game", sighed the evil Lich king skeletally and turned away from the chess table, just when an Acolyte entered the room.   
"Acolyte!", greeted the Lich king warmly, "Have you humble servant performed the task which I commanded you to?".   
"Yes, master, I have!", coughed the Acolyte, "Elvenville stands helpless against the mighty structure!".   
"Marvelous", stated the evil Lich king, "We can now move on to phase 2 of my gloriously evil plan!".   
The Acolyte stared at the Lich king. The Lich king stared at the Acolyte. The Acolyte checked something in his laptop and then stared back at the Lich king. The Abomination ate the black queen.   
"Excuse me, O great master", said the Acolyte eventually, "But what is phase 2?".   
They stared at each other again for another few minutes. The Abomination ate both white and black kings, and thus the game ended in a draw.   
"Phase 2!", screamed the Lich angrily, and there was silence again. The Abomination, tired of chess, began nibbling on some WarCraft3 action figures.   
"Yes, master?", asked the Acolyte, "What is phase 2?".   
"Such top secret information is beyond mere Acolytes such as yourself!", screamed the Lich king, "Now go take care of Phase 2!".   
"But, master...", hesitated the Acolyte.   
"Silence, slave!", croaked the Lich king, "This phase relies so heavily on the element of surprise that even I am not allowed yet to know it!".   
"Very well", mumbled the Acolyte with confusion, and started out of the room.   
"Don't forget to buy my favorite cookies!", echoed the voice of the Lich king behind him.   
The Abomination burped up a black knight. "Alright, you", growled the Lich at him, "Let's try this just one more time...".   
  
The Elven king nervously roamed back and forth in his Elvish throne room. "Augh...", he moaned helplessly and painfully every once in a while, upon catching random glimpses of his poor Elvish window.   
One of his many High Elven Councils, who stood in the room and observed him for some reason which is of no interest to our readers, tried to calm him down. "Worry not, my king!", he assured, "I assure you that Sir Magis the Blue will find a solution to this disturbing problem!".   
"Not a chance", whispers were heard in the Elvencrowd, "Not if it took him a million krillion years!".   
"You fool" , replied other whispered voices, "there is no such number as krillion!".   
"Well even if there were such a number, it would not be enough!".   
"Silence!", cried the king, "You all keep arguing, we are still helpless in front of this gruesome piece of Undead architecture, and it's already 11:00AM yet I've only had 2 breakfasts! When will that Magis return already?".   
As if fired out of a Wand of Lightning Shield, Magis blasted through a window, performing a backflip in some unconventional directions and landing on his face. "Worry not, my liege!", Magis leaped off the floor, "For I have found a solution to thy majestic problem!". After a quick glance at his compass, he quickly charged out the skylight.   
"Hey there, laddies!", declared Toras, stumbling bravely from behind a curtain, "Don't you worry your little Elvish heads, for me and me pal here are on the job!". With a drunken look on his face, Toras hurried to exit the hall. He returned shortly though, in search of some more fine Dwarven ale. "What a waste", he sighed before leaving again, "So many big ears, and not a single keg of ale...".   
The High Elven councils and the Elven king looked at one another in confusion. "What just happenned?!", wondered many of them aloud.   
  
Here the writers decided to take a break of several months and return in a slightly different demographic composition   
At this point, against all expectations, the story returned to our heroes.   
"Alright, then, we agree about what must be done with the Ziggurat", summed Magis.   
Here the writers decided to return to their original demographic composition   
"We sure do!", agreed Toras excitedly. "What was that again?", he asked.   
"Grrr..", growled Magis, "We've gone over this numerous times! Come on, I know you can do it- we need to find a...".   
"Oh of course, silly me!", shouted Toras, "We need to find an Acolyte to unsummon that Ziggurat!".   
Magis blinked in surprise. "Well what we agreed about was that we need to find a plan?", he said, "But your idea sounds even better!".   
"Aye, 'tis!", agreed Toras, "And the first step would be to drink some fine ale!"   
"No more ale for you, you are completely intoxicated already!", exclaimed Magis, "Let us depart now and find a nice obedient Acolyte to unsummon that evil Ziggurat!".   
"Will I ever get a keg of fine Dwarven ale in this story?", sighed Toras and started after Magis, towards some dark forest which seemed like a very promising place for one who might be after some Undead Acolytes.   
  
The forest, as stated in the previous paragraph, seemed rather dark. Only a few sun beams managed to get through the thick foliage, and those too usually chickened out before reaching the ground.   
Magis and Toras walked around silently, stalking whichever Undead prey would reveal itself to their Elvish (and occasionally Dwarvish, whenever Toras was conscious) eyes.   
"Oh I've got ye now, ye Undead bastard!", cried Toras and leapt at a nearby tree, "Hand over all ye fine ale or else I'll smite ye with me axe!". The tree refused to hand over ale of any kind, and consequently had to ignore Toras' unsuccessful attempts to land his axe upon it.   
"Would you stop attacking these innocent trees?", cried Magis, "You've hit 5 of them already! What has gotten into you?!"   
"I can tell ye what certainly has NOT gotten into me, lad!", replied Toras, "Fine - Dwarven - ALE!".   
Magis sighed in despair. "You know", he pondered aloud, "I do begin to suspect that this here forest might not be the perfect place for one to find Undead things after all".   
"That's right", agreed Toras fiercely, "They are probably sitting at a nice well-lit tavern now, enjoying some fine Dwarven ale!".   
"Stop whining about your ale!", shouted Magis and slapped Toras around a bit with a large trout, "It's some strong coffee that you need right now, not ale!".   
"Wine, you say?", contemplated Toras, "Aye, that might be fine as well!"   
-"Now, where would we find Undead things nowadays?".   
- "Eh.. Undead taverns, perchance?".   
- "Good thinking! And would those taverns be located at a nice cheerfully dark forest like this?".   
Toras stopped for a minute, concentrating hard on the question. "Maybe?", he eventually replied.   
"No!", concluded Magis, "Because that would be too easy! In order to keep our readers properly entertained with some fighting action, such taverns would probably be found in the land of the dead, across the Lava Rivers, and beyond the valley of wraiths!"   
"Ah yes", agreed Toras, "I remember now! Beyond the mountains-of-no-return!".   
"Finally you're focused!", gleamed Magis satisfactorily.   
"Aye, sure am!", jumped Toras, "We better celebrate the occasion with some fine Dwarven ale!"   
"My mistake", sighed Magis and started deeper into the forest.   
  
Night was falling, and whatever little light was in the forest prior to that, diminished to complete darkness.   
"Have ye noticed", commented Toras wisely, "That all this darkness really makes it harder for ye to see?".   
"Furthermore", added Magis informatively, "I begin to suspect that we may have gotten lost in this dark forest!".   
"Ah, nonsense!", argued Toras, "We're not lost, we simply haven't the faintest idea where we are or how to get out of here!".   
"Well, whichever is the case", said Magis, "We still don't know where to go now".   
"That does not matter, silly Elf!", replied Toras, "The real problem here is that we still don't know where to go now!".   
Our heroes stopped walking in random directions, and looked around them. After looking around the area briefly, Toras noticed that he couldn't see Magis. "Where have ye gone now, silly Elf?", he asked.   
"We Night Elves are invisible at night, remember?", giggled Magis from the shadows.   
"But ye aren't a Night Elf!", argued Toras.   
Magis became visible again. "Well, if you want to get all technical about it...".   
  
So they sat on the ground of the forest, and thought about the next step of the glorious quest, focusing with utmost effort at the problem which lay in front of them, until a sharp scream pierced the air, interrupting Magis' thoughts of Elvish things and Toras' thoughts of fine Dwarven ale.   
"What was that?", cried Magis suspiciously.   
"Must've been Dwarven ale in distress, methinks!", answered Toras," Quick now, lad! Press F9 to open the Quests window!".   
Magis obeyed, and the Quests window quickly came up. As expected, it contained a quest. "Save that screaming kid in the forest!", it stated specifically, "From the nasty, threateningly large creep that chases it!".   
"Are ye sure about the size of the creep?", hesitated Toras.   
"Oh yes, that definitely sounded like a kid being chased by a threateningly large creep, don't you think?".   
Toras drew his axe out. "Well then, I think it's obvious what we must now do!"   
"Flee in terror?", suggested Magis courageously.   
"No, ye silly Elf!", cried Toras, "We've got a creep to rescue and a kid to slay!"   
"Don't you mean a kid to rescue and a creep to slay?", said Magis with a questioning voice.   
Toras blinked in confusion. "Aye, I guess that could work too", he agreed, "As long as me gets to slay something, and then go home and celebrate the occasion with some ale!".   
"Alright then, to battle!", declared Magis bravely, drew out Elvenblade, his trusty Elven blade, and fled in terror. Moments later, he was followed by a terrified kid, which in turn was followed by a nasty and hungry, though not necessarily threateningly large, Forest Troll.   
Toras didn't have a second to lose. "Oh I've got ye now, ye nasty Gnoll!", he shouted and leapt at the Troll.   
"That's a Forest Troll, you know", commented Magis from a nearby bush, and quickly dropped back to the floor after being hit by a throwing axe.   
The Troll, surprised of the attack, not to mention of the classification as a Gnoll, turned around at Toras with a growl, but found nothing as Toras was already hanging on his back, ready to search the inside of his head for fine ale of some sort.   
The Troll, being far too stupid to subject to the element of surprise, quickly turned around and threw the Dwarf to the ground. Toras fell, having only the time to see an axe flying at his general direction, and to evasively dodge it by tripping over his axe and falling backwards.   
Toras picked up his axe, then rose back to his full height and charged at the Troll with a ferocious war cry. A rain of flying axes around him threatened to knock him back to the ground, but nevertheless he managed to dodge most of them and eventually reach the Troll and detach his head with a single swing of his mighty axe.   
"Don't lose your head!", Magis grinned stupidly at the Troll who fell to the floor, spraying blood in all sorts of interesting directions, after getting up from the bush where he was hiding unconsciously.   
"Hey Elf, ye've got an axe sticking from your head", mentioned Toras.   
"Oh, that little thing?", said Magis uninterestedly and pulled the throwing axe out of his head, "Don't you worry, we Elves are not easy prey!".  
Their attention quickly shifted to the shiny treasure chest which lay where until recently was a beheaded Forest Troll. "Shiny!", remarked Magis and quickly right-clicked on the chest, which suddenly morphed into a crystal ball and moved into his inventory.   
"Hey, what else have ye got in that inventory of yers, Elf?", wondered Toras.   
Magis was quickly reminded of chapter 1. "Look, the high council gave me my very own Elf!", he grinned and passed Toras his small mirror.   
"Have ye gone crazy?!", gasped Toras after a glance at the mirror, "'Tis a Dwarf, in there, not an Elf!".   
Magis took back the mirror, from which an Elf grinned at him with certainty. "Ah, you must be drunk again", he shrugged.   
"Silly Elves", muttered Toras to himself. "And what's that round crystallic object that the nasty Gnoll dropped?".   
"Looks like a Crystal Ball, complete with 5 charges!", replied Magis.   
"But how do ye silly Elves use these strange round things?", wondered Toras.   
"Simple", explained Magis in detail, "By clicking on it and then on the mini-map!". He pointed at the mini-map at the bottom left of the screen.  
"Ah, I knew that", claimed Toras. "Well we better get going, the ale might be just out of this forest!".   
"May I remind you that it's an Acolyte we're after", reminded Magis to Toras, as well as to the confused readers.   
"I guess we'll find that out for sure only in the next chapter!", concluded Magis. 


End file.
